


Scars Under the Mountain

by Comic_Sans_Calibre



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9884390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comic_Sans_Calibre/pseuds/Comic_Sans_Calibre
Summary: When life gets too hard for Frisk, she decides to leave it all behind. But instead, she finds many reasons to stick around, with help from some new friends of course.





	

I sat in the back of my lecture, my professor was droning on about math, or chemistry, I couldn’t really tell anymore. I had eyes only for the clock that was slowly ticking past the end of the hour. My chest tightened slightly as I realized I might be late. No, I couldn’t be late. I grabbed by books and ran out, ignoring the disapproving stare from my professor. It was raining slightly, but I couldn’t care less. I had to get home, and do my chores, start dinner, if I didn’t... No, I couldn’t anger her again. My arms throbbed slightly at the thought. I crossed a street, only glancing up briefly to look at the mountain that loomed over our town. The legends of the mountain flashed through my mind, how those who climb the mountain never return. How easy it would be to disappear, never come back. But all those thoughts flew from my mind as my stomach dropped to the floor. I had finally returned home, but her car was already parked out front. And worse, another car was parked there too. That meant she had brought someone home, another man. If I was lucky, it was just a drunk looking to get laid, if it was another… No, I wasn’t going to think about it. I dropped my books underneath the porch, I would have to sneak back out later for them. I opened the door slowly, maybe, if I could sneak in, I could hide in my room until morning. Hopefully, she wouldn’t remember anything, she normally doesn’t. I carefully closed the door, when I heard a bottle hit the wall behind me. Sharp shards of glass hit my sweater as her open fist smacked me across the cheek.

“You ungrateful, ignorant, selfish little bitch!” She spat the words into my face, slurring slightly and gagging me with the overpowering scent of alcohol.She hit me a few more times before dragging me into the kitchen

“I brought home takeout, so you can clean the entire fucking kitchen, then make yourself scarce.” She shoved me into the kitchen and went off upstairs. I could hear talking and laughing carrying on floating down the stairs. Numbly, I cleaned up the old bottles and cigarette stubs. I was halfway done when another bottle came flying at me, this time smacking me alongside the head. My vison was double as I looked up to see her standing in the arms of some man.

“Danny here is taking me back to his place, so finish and go straight to your room, if you don’t, I will know.” Her and “Danny” stumbled out the door, and I ran down to my room. If you could even call the closet I was forced to live in a room. When I was younger, I used to dream that I was like Harry Potter, and that one day I would get my letter out of this hell. I sat on my bare mattress, and stared blankly into the floor. I felt sad, angry, betrayed, selfish, unworthy, cowardly. Numb. I opened a drawer in my small cabinet, and brought out the small baggy that contained my blades, my shiny metal friends. I took off my worn blue sweater, and stare at my arms. From my wrist to my shoulder, both arms where covered in scars. Some so old they barely showed, others still had dried blood around them. I grabbed a blade, and placed it on my forearm. I pressed down on the corner until it bit into my skin, blood pooling around the blade, I drug the razor across my skin, and for a moment, my skin smiled at me. A smile revealing parts of my arm that should never see the daylight. Then the blood welled, and started to run down my arm. I waited for the calm feeling, for the adrenaline rush that normally followed, but nothing happened. I slashed a few more times, but I still felt nothing. With a strangled scream, I threw the blade across the room and started to sob. I was tired of all the shit that I had to go through. I thought back to the mountain, where hikers are said to never return from. It would be so easy to disappear, and that sounded like a wonderful idea. I rummaged around in my closet until I found my green drawstring bag. I threw in some necessity’s, including my bandages and blades. I put my sweater back on, not caring that blood was stain the sleeve. I ran out the front door, not bothering to shut it. Just as the sun was setting I made it to the bottom of the mountain. I straightened my up, bracing myself, and began to climb.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when I reached the top of the mountain. I was actually surprised I had made it this far. All of the stories said that those who climb the mountain never return, but why they never returned was never said. Some said that the mountain was crawling with wild beast armed with sharp teeth and big claws. Others said that a band of wild savages roamed the mountain, feasting on anyone dumb enough to enter their domain. But the oldest villagers, brushed off as senile old fools, spoke of monsters. Monsters trapped deep in the underground. But so far, i hadn’t seen any sign of animals, savages, or monsters. I sat down on an old log, trying to catch my breath. My face stung from being hit with jaggers and branches. My jeans had holes from stumbling into rocks and trees, and my arms throbbed from my earlier ministrations. I shrugged off my bag and rolled up my sleeve, wincing as the fabric pulled off the newly formed scabs. Now that the excitement of my meltdown had settled, my cuts were really starting to hurt. I had cut a lot more then usually, almost 15 cuts littered my forearm. And the gashes were a lot deeper then what I normally made. Without the scabs, the cuts had started to bleed again, the blood looking unnaturally red in morning sun. I searched around in my bag and pulled out a roll of gauze. I wrapped the bandage in place, and taped it in place. I pulled my sleeve back down, and slumped my head in my hands. I let out a strangled sob as thought about the situation I was in. I was tired, tired of being afraid, tired of hiding, I couldn’t go back, not now. I was too far into this.

“Howdy”

A voice broke me out my thoughts.

“H-Hello, is someone there?”

I wait for an answer…nothing. Great, now I was hearing things.

“Over here”

The voice came again, this time from behind me. I quickly spun around, the voice seemed to becoming from this rocky outcropping behind me. I stood up and swung my bag back over my shoulders, walking toward the rocks. When I got closer, I could see that the rocks lead into a cave of some sorts. I peeked my head in, but it was way too dark to see anything. I turned to leave, but something wrapped around my ankle. I tripped, expecting to hit the hard cave floor, but my hands were met with cool air as I tumbled head first down a deep hole. I barley let out a shriek before the air was ripped from my lungs, and the last thing I remember was a soft looking bed of golden flowers, and a monstrous grin.


End file.
